


Hope

by CastielsCarma



Series: Supernatural Stay at home [8]
Category: Supernatural, Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Logain is gone, M/M, The Wheel of Time, asha'man Cas, channeling Dean, the Black Tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Dean Winchester finally arrives at the Black Tower - a place that he hopes will help him with his channeling. The world around him has been in upheaval ever since the Rand al'Thor proclaimed himself to be the Dragon Reborn but Dean's world will be rocked when he discovers who has done the black coat.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural Stay at home [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699483
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Part 8 of SpnStayAtHome challenge from Tumblr.
> 
> Today's prompt was Hope.
> 
> So I decided to do a Supernatural/Wheel of Time crossover/divergent fic!  
> I haven't read WoT in awhile but it was the obsession of my youth (getting strong urges to reread the books again though). There are a lot of things going on here, that I don't necessarily explain... but then this ficlet would turn into a monster and we don't have time for that right now. ; )
> 
> The events that happen in the fic are based around Taim's introduction to the Black Tower that Rand Al'thor founded ("A Lord of Chaos) and the later books where the friction between Taim's Asha'man and Logain's Asha'man grow, all the way up until Logain's disappearance. As always I hope you enjoy. <3 Comments are greatly appreciated but never a must.
> 
> Any errors are all mine since it was years since I read the Wheel of Time. Feel free to point out any glaring errors on my part. 
> 
> (See the end of the work for more notes.)

_Only a fool lies willingly with Death._ The Wisdom in Dean's village Lawren had been of the mind that Dean Winchester often courted death whether it be in the way of stealing Hendara's pies when they rested on the window sill or by doing something foolish like taking off in the middle of the night as a child to hunt wolves and trollocs.

In Dean's defense he'd been a small child then. Engaging in this amount of foolishness now, he must truly be mad already.

The wind is not strong but it finds its way past Dean's woolen coat anyway. He shifts slightly which he regrets immediately. Master Kel's wagon has eased his travels and given him a much-needed break, but the road had been less than smooth and the closer they come to his final destination, the more Dean feels the journey in his bones.

Not even the golden city of Caemlyn has lingered for long in his thoughts. The two leagues it takes to travel from one of the largest cities he'd ever seen to the Black Tower gives him ample opportunities to yell at Master Kel to turn the horses around. To shout at him that he regrets this Light-blasted journey and that he'll turn back to his old man John's house and the hunting that there awaits.

Yet Dean stays silent and watches the thick trees as they pass. Goosebumps rise on his flesh suddenly. The wooden landscape gives way to a clearing and Dean sees the reason for what has caused his alertness. Not only is someone holding _saidin_ but they're holding a significant amount of it. He spots a rectangular portal and surmises that that's the reason for the surge of power he's felt, although it's too far away for him to see any weaves.

Master Kel slows the wagon to a halt and looks back at him. “No further than here, and only because my niece was saved by one of you.” He looks at Dean with a blend of worry, anger and unease.

Dean wants to correct him. He's far from an Asha'man. But with training the Black Tower provides, he hopes he'll learn enough to survive without burning the world down. There's one man tasked to do that and Dean wouldn't want to be near the Dragon Reborn if his life depended on it. _No, but a false Dragon, that's fine._ Dean shuts the voice down. There are no choices for the mad ones. And seeing as Dean channels, his fate is sealed; madness awaits him. Now it's just a matter of prolonging the inevitable. He won't be hunted by the Red like a dog, not if he can do something about it.

“Thank you, Master Kel.” Dean jumps down and digs around in his satchel. His skill with gambling, while not making him rich, has been enough to provide him with enough coin to sleep in the occasional inn and get a hot meal in his belly.

Master Kel spits on the ground. “Light willing, my debt is now paid.” He urges on his animals and with a slow and steady trot, they leave him.

Dean exhales and starts walking towards the Black Tower.

Chickens scamper around his feet but what really stops Dean in his tracks are the children. Boys and girls running around, kicking up dust as they chase a ball. He even sees women! What kind of Lightblasted woman travels willingly to a place – where men not only _can_ channel but are _encouraged_ to do so – and takes her children with her?

He knows he's been spotted, even from before when he was sitting on that wagon. He sees an Asha'man approach him wearing a dark wool coat. He's sturdy, with gray eyes and a dark beard that reaches him all the way to his belly.

“You come to join the Black Tower, boy?”

Dean swallows. He knows he can channel but it's a far different reality to be confronted with _other_ people, other _men_ that can channel. He wants to object to the man's use of 'boy' but bites his tongue. “If you'll have me. I'm Dean Winchester of – “

“I don't care if you came out of my mother's womb. If you can channel, and we'll test that shortly, the Dragon Reborn will have you. He needs as many weapons as he can. Follow me.”

“I can – “

The Asha'man cuts him short. “We've had all sorts of wayward folks come here thinking that they can channel. The Lord Dragon doesn't have time to waste on foolhardy peasant boys who think every headache is a sign of them touching the One Power. So, just come along, Dean.”

The Black Tower does not compare at all to the majesty of the White Tower, or at least of what he's heard people say about it. But Dean also knows the rumors and whispers that come from this place despite its lack of grandeur. He will not make the mistake to think these men are just farmers.

It's easy to make that mistake though. The Black Tower is no more a tower than Lawren's small house with room to house only two or three peddlers or farmers passing through is named an inn. Lawren had been a quiet village until the Dragon Reborn had broken all rules and laws. Even to their remote village the winds of change came. The Dragon Reborn touched all hearts and burned all souls to ashes.

“That's the tower over there. We also have the sleeping quarters for the families and the Soldiers and Dedicated are separated.” He stops himself. “You'll get the tour soon enough. The _M'Hael_ is waiting.”

Dean sees a large stone house that rises three stories up to touch the blue sky. The stones are not of the finest quality but the cut and size do tell him that it's nothing a farmer could be seen building. There are several other, smaller houses spread out over the area, and he sees what appears to be animal pens. The noise of goats, cows, and chickens all blend together and with the shrill sound of children playing Dean almost believes that this is just an ordinary small village with plain farm folk.

The illusion quickly shatters as Dean walks past a small stone wall, no higher than to his thigh. Blasting sounds assault him, even before his whole body is being crushed with a sense of awe and heaviness. He knows _saidin_ is being held by many; if he's wrong he'll eat his shoes.

Stones are being destroyed; exploding in a spray of smaller pebbles that rain down with heavy spatters on the ground or being cut in half with slicing precision. He suspects that there's some kind of weave that shields the others from the sound of the Asha'man practicing.

The Asha'man that greeted him keeps a steady pace, not even bothering to look back to see if Dean follows.

A child keeps looking at the men, all clad in black as they train with the One Power. As Dean walks by the child, he almost stops. If Dean's senses are to be trusted, the young boy is also holding the Power, and he's quickly learned to always trust his senses.

A new voice speaks up over the explosion. “I'll handle the newcomer, Tarind.”

The man gives a curt nod. “Of course.”

Dean feels goosebumps form on his arms and his heart speeds up. It's been years but he knows this voice. It's a voice he's been having dreams of since the day they parted – bitter as that moment was.

Dean shakes his head in disbelief, refusing to acknowledge the small flutter of hope that rises in his gut.

An arm grabs him, and Dean is yanked to what seems to be the only tree in the Black Tower compound. “Blood and bloody ashes, Dean. What are you doing here?”

Blue eyes stare back at him, the color of the clear springs back in Lawren. He's just as Dean remembers him. He is somewhat older, but the years have been kind to him. His hair is the same dark unruly mess, the wind still eager to ruffle it.

He wears the black coat that all men in this place wear but Dean notices that he has two pins attached to the collars; a silver sword on the left side and what looks like a gold and red dragon pin is attached to the right side. He looks bigger somehow and Dean can't tell if it's because he holds the Power or because life has managed to make his spirit larger.

“Cas...” It comes out a feeble whisper.

Castiel stops for a second, and his face softens. “The very one.” Instantly, his face is sharp angles and determination. “You do not start acting like a wool-headed sheepherder now, you hear me, Dean? Light knows the Lord Dragon does, but he's the Dragon Reborn and you have no such excuse. Do you understand?”

Dean would lie if he said he understood, so he just nods silently. A question forms on his lips. “Uh, Cas, do you mind – “

“Stay silent, bow your head down, do as you're told, and don't be _stupid_. Burn me for a fool! Of all the wooden-headed buffoons – “

Castiel pulls Dean away from the tree and all but drags him over to a smaller house near the larger farmhouse. “Stay here. Don't move. You'll be summoned shortly.”

Dean stands there and looks at Castiel as he walks away. A thousand questions spring up in his mind and he has the urge to run up to Castiel and ask him where in theShayol bloody Ghulhe's been all these years.

He realizes he's not alone. A dozen or so men wait there with him; some look aloof, others seem eager with an odd shine of intensity to their eyes. Further back Dean sees women looking at the group of men, their arms crossed. He sees one woman with an ample body and hair black as tar staring at them as if she's ready to knife them while another reedy woman with her hair in a bun almost sways in place, her eyes everywhere except on the group of men standing together.

Castiel comes back out from the Tower with another man walking next to him.

He must be another Asha'man but his gait is different. He walks with an aura of confidence that speaks almost of royalty but he wears the same dark coats as everyone else, except there are blue-and-gold dragons embroidered on the sleeves. His hooked nose, dark skin, and high cheekbones tell Dean he's a Saldean. Dean only knows this because of a book he bought from a peddler who was going through Lawren one summer.

His tilted eyes look over the crowd, narrowing and his lips pull down in what Dean can only describe as a look of contempt.

Castiel moves with ease, almost like he's floating but Dean notices that he doesn't come too close to the man and Dean can hear Castiel recite names to the man.

“Enough with the names, there'll be time for that later, for those of them that are still here tomorrow.” He sounds impatient.

Castiel stops and takes a step forward. He looks every part the Asha'man with his dark coat and darker stare. “Welcome to the Black Tower. You will be tested by the Asha'man in charge of the Black Tower in the Dragon Reborn's absence – Mazrim Taim.”

Dean hears people audibly gasp at the name. Hearing about the False Dragon is one thing, being in the presence of him is another, even if all of them are here voluntarily. He hears a woman groan in the background and soft murmurs come from others.

Mazrim Taim's face turns darker by every word Castiel says and by the end he looks like he's chewing nails. He looks out over the crowd, his gaze passing over Dean without pause, and Dean realizes that he's holding his breath. There something unsettling with the man, a wave of power and darkness that exudes from him and threatens to wash over Dean.

“You, over there. We'll start with you.” Mazrim Taim points straight at Dean.

The crowd stills and the soft murmurings die down.

Dean hesitates but remembers Castiel's earlier warning. He was planning on following orders anyway, but his mind can't grasp the fact that he's standing so close to Mazrim Taim.

He walks up to Mazrim Taim, who grabs his arms and yanks him back and forth until he's satisfied that Deans stands in the right spot.

He turns his attention to the crowd. “The more Power that's used, the easier it is to detect the resonance. Drawing in too much Power might kill you though, so let's start small.” Mazrim turns and looks at Dean.

A tiny flame appears between Dean and Taim.

Dean feels the power emanating from Taim and has an urge to back away. He sees the thin flow of Fire Taim weaves and marvels briefly at the complexity of just a thin thread like that.

“Concentrate on the flame, you are the flame. The entire world is the flame. There is nothing but the flame.”

Dean is not familiar with the way Taim wants him to approach the One Power so he does what he's always done. He reaches for _saidin_. Women speak of embracing _saidar –_ that's what he heard others whisper when talking about Aes Sedai – but for Dean there is no such thing as embracing. His soul sings with joy as he seizes _saidin_. It's a torrent of overbearing sweetness and burning filth that threatens to overwhelm him and drag him down into the depths if he relaxes for a mere second.

Taim's seemingly perpetual mask of contempt slips for a second as his eyes widen in surprise. Then he barks out an order. “Let go you bloody fool! Are you trying to kill us all? I said _let go_!”

Dean wrestles himself free from the seductive lure of drawing in even more _saidin_ with so much haste that he feels the taint of the male half of the Source echo in his stomach. He wants to kneel down on the ground and empty his guts but manages to stay on two feet. He grits his teeth and ignores the thin sheen of sweat that covers him.

Taim glares at him. “That was an impressively foolish way of letting us know you can use the Power. It seems the Dragon Reborn's luck extends to this farm even in his absence. Take a step back. You're accepted.”

With that, Taim dismisses him and focuses on the other men waiting for their turn.

Dean is in turmoil. Relief floods through him at the prospect of finally belonging, even if it will all end in death. _Death is not a particular mistress, she comes for everyone._ Dean will do whatever he can to stave her off for a while longer.

Dean looks around his sleeping quarters. It's a small cottage with sex beds, a shared closet for clothes, and a small chest rests at the foot board of each bed. It's not large but big enough that they can store various personal belongings each of them has brought with them. The room is empty now save for one occupant.

A boy stands there, thin and reed-like but the black coat fits him nonetheless. His sandy hair is ruffled, a tooth is chipped and the few pale freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose, all of it gives him an air of innocence.“I'm Saman Andriel.” The boy extends his hand – and he _is_ a boy, Dean guesses he hasn't even seen fourteen winters yet. He doubts he even has hair on his chest.

“Dean Winchester.” He shakes his hand. “So how long have you been here?”

Saman puffs up his chest with pride. “Almost since the beginning, when this place was known as the Farm. The Black Tower was just a one-story building, and we only had some chickens then. No one was an Asha'man but now we're many.”

“And your parents, what did they say when you wanted to come to a place like this? Or did you run away?”

Saman becomes guarded. “My parents are dead, so they have no say. Killed by the bad Aiel, not the Lord Dragon's Aiel.” He seems worried that Dean won't understand the difference. “They're protecting him from threats the One Power cannot.”

Dean clears his throat. “Sorry about your folks. Uh, threats like what?”

There's a hard glint in Saman's eyes, too hard for a child to have, but Dean figures he has his reasons. They all have their own stories for why they accepted the Dragon Reborn's amnesty rather than hurl themselves off a cliff.

“A spear in the back, a knife in the heart, a rock against the head. Things like that. We can touch the Source, but we're not immune to death. That's what Master Taim says.”

Dean swallows. Light! Mazrim Taim doesn't even go easy on children. But he has a fair point; the moment a boy touches the source he stops being a child. And Tarmon Gai'don awaits.

Still the notion of all these channeling men being together in one place makes him uneasy. There's a constant itch between his shoulder blades, his body expecting a knife that never comes. Dean rolls his shoulders and tries to ease some of the tension.

There's a knock on the door and Saman goes quiet. He stands there and listens and Dean is sure he hears two more knocks, further apart this time.

“You not gonna' open the door?”

Saman shakes his head and urges him to be quiet. He tilts his head to the side. There are three more knocks, in rapid succession. Saman exhales and runs to the door before stopping himself. He looks back at Dean, a sheepish grin on his face. “I still forget sometimes.”

A subtle change in the air is Dean's only warning that Saman uses the Power before the door swings open by itself.

Castiel enters together with a lanky round-faced man walking next to him.

The man turns and faces Saman. “Go outside and wait. You know what to look out for. Use just enough _saidin_ to warn us. It will seem suspicious otherwise if you're not up to any task at the moment. Light knows we don't need any more reason for them to look at us with distrusting eyes.”

“Yes, Jonneth – Asha'man.” Jonneth smiles briefly, then lets it fall as the door closes.

Dean tries not to stare at Castiel but it's hard. It has been so many years and he has a whole barrel of questions for him. He walks towards Castiel but Jonneth is there in a heartbeat. He steps in front of Castiel, as if to shield him.

Castiel's voice is warm.“I appreciate the concern, Jonneth but if Dean wanted me dead, I'd be cold on the floor already and Taim would gnash his teeth at the missed opportunity to do it himself.” They both chuckle at that.

Bloody ashes, they sound mad already, both of them. Dean wonders briefly if it was a mistake to come here but then he must be just as mad when he thinks that the answer is no.

Castiel embraces him.

Dean exhales and wraps his arms around Castiel. It feels like no time has passed at all, despite all the years they've been away from each other. He wants to hold on to Castiel awhile longer, feel the comfort of having him – having someone that is _home_ – but Castiel lets go of him all too soon.

“It's good to see you, Dean, even in a place like this. I never would've guessed that you could channel.”

“Well, you were not there to see it.” Dean can hear the sudden steel in his voice and softens it. “But that's what a bull-headed fool – “

Castiel interrupts him. “Wooden -headed buffon. As nice as it is to see you, and it's _really_ nice to see you Dean, I need you to let Jonneth here Delve you. It's a rare Talent that he possesses, one that he's been hiding from prying eyes, and we're going to keep it that way. Do you trust me to do that?”

Dean's eyes flit to Jonneth who just looks at him. He has traveled to the Black Tower on his own accord and is now an accepted member but he would lie if the thought of another man touching him with the One Power so soon doesn't fill him with unease.

He licks his lips. “Do I have a choice?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No.”

Dean clenches his hands to stop the urge to wipe his clammy hands on the travel-stained tunic. He nods. “I guess the answer is yes then.”

Jonneth takes another step forward. “Sit down please. If you touch me, I can work much faster. And we need to be fast.”

Dean sits down on the edge of a bed and tries to relax. He has to fight his instincts to reach out and seize _saidin_ , just for the comfort of it. He almost laughs out loud. Maybe he's already mad if he thinks the True Power is a source of comfort. It doesn't mitigate his urge to do just that anyway. Dean pulls up his sleeve to expose his wrist. He glances once at Castiel.

Castiel nods. “I trust him, Dean. With my life.”

Jonneth nods grimly at that. “It's an honor serving you, Castiel.”

Jonneth lays a hand on him and Dean is hit with a sense of power. Cold sweat pools at the back of his neck, slowly crawling downwards. He wants to pull away but he's not sure that the sudden motion will not disturb Jonneth and sever the connection. It might kill him. The weave that Jonneth places over him are intricate, with more threads than Dean can count and so fine that it looks like queen's needlework.

Dean feels a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. He's ready for death. Every man that channels is. He just doesn't want to die right at _**this**_ moment.

They sit like this for what feels like an eternity. Jonneth is not really looking at Dean, his focus is all on the weaves he's creating with the Power as he Delves Dean.

Judging by how Castiel paces back and forth – the soft leather boots barely making a sound – he worries that they'll find _something._ Maybe Castiel worries that Dean has gone mad already and thinks that Dean will turn out to be like one of those channeling men in the stories they heard as children. The ones about men that spoke in tongues no one understood, the ones were men tore the earth apart and ripped people's limbs off one by one as if they were straw puppets.

Jonneth finally gets up. “I don't detect anything. I could try one more time, see if I can go even deeper or we can get the others so he can swear the – “

Castiel stops the pacing and looks at the ground. He's silent for a heartbeat, then looks at Jonneth, determination burning in his eyes. “It's too risky. At least for now. Taim is here and Kisman and Mishraile are already suspicious as it is. We have to be careful. We're balancing on a knife's edge and even the smallest of gusts can push us all down into the abyss.”

“As you wish, Castiel.”

“Leave us. We'll be out shortly.”

When the door closes, Dean and Castiel are finally alone.

There are plenty of things that Dean wants to ask Castiel and plenty more that he wants to tell him. He's had years to think about different scenarios in his mind of them reuniting again. Castiel leaving him had been the biggest loss in his life apart from his mother Mary, may the Light illuminate her soul.

“I thought you were dead.” Dean wants to spit out the words and he wants them to be angry, a sharp stab in a wound he selfishly hopes that Castiel still possesses but instead his spoken words are soft whispers filled with anguish.

Castiel sucks in a breath and comes to him. He grabs Dean's hand. “I'm truly sorry that I made you think that, Dean. Light burn me, I did what I thought was right in that moment. I had just learned that I could _channel_ , Dean and I was afraid. Not only for myself but for my family, for the entire village... for you. The last thing you needed was a raving madman shredding you to pieces with the One Power.”

“I could have come with you back then. I thought that you didn't – “ Dean swallows hard.

“Dean. Look at me.” Castiel's voice is soft again. It takes Dean back to days when they were younger. When they were just boys swimming in the lakes during the hot summer days, when they helped their fathers with the harvest, when Dean accidentally stabbed Castiel in the barn during that summer storm.

Dean chuckles. “You sound the same you know, even if your voice is more gravelly now. You even said the same words to me in an effort to calm me down.”

A smile pulls at Castiel's lips. “Are you referring to the time you stabbed me like a pig?”

“Hey, the thunder was closer than I expected and I jumped and tripped. Just so happened that your chest was in the way of my blade.”

Castiel nods as he remembers. “Yes, I also remember that John didn't use those words though and neither was he as forgiving when he found out. But I did calm you down. Is it working now?”

Dean lets out a hoarse laugh. “Only because it's you.”

“When did you find out you could... channel?”

Dean turns serious. “A fortnight after you... disappeared.”

A look of compassion flashes over Castiel's face. He's been holding Dean's hand all this time and now he rubs a thumb over Dean's skin. “I'm sorry that you had to go through that alone.”

“Yes, so am I.”

Castiel sighs in the silence that follow their confession. “Dean, you need to leave. This is not – “

Castiel backs away as Dean pulls away from his hand and gets up, anger flashing in his eyes. “Burn you! I finally managed to get here, and trust me, Cas, if I could I'd rather kiss a flaming trolloc, but this is my final hope.” He grits out the last words, mindful that Castiel seems to want to keep this conversation a secret. “Now, what you and me had, that might be ashes in the wind for you but I refuse to let that stand in the way for my salvation, my hope.”

Castiel exhales deeply – a pained look on his face – and Dean glances at the silver-sword and the gold-and-red dragon pin attached to his collar again. “So you think it's fair that you embrace the madness fully and join other men that can channel but me, you want _me_ to leave? And face Light knows what alone?”

“Dean, this is a place of darkness and despair.” Castiel walks up to Dean and grips the front of his tunic. “And I'm not talking about men going irrevocably mad, that will happen to all of us. The Lord Dragon whispers of a plan – “. He stops himself but grits out the next words, his voice tinted with anger and desperation. “Mazrim Taim can't be trusted. The Black Tower is divided, Logain has been missing for weeks and I'm doing my best not to be nailed to that blasted Traitor tree. And I suspect...”

Castiel stops and leans in really close, his breath hot against Dean's ear. “I _know_ that Taim is making Dreadlords, controlling some of the Asha'man either with Compulsion or by other means. This is far from a place of hope, Dean. So yes, I want you to leave.”

Dean grips Castiel's hands, defiant anger turning his voice hoarse. “I'm tired of running, Cas. Out there I have the Reds to worry about, and by the Light, I will not be Gentled. There are wars ravaging the nations, I've heard rumors about something called _Seanchan –_ I don't know what that is but I know it spells trouble – and the Dragon walking the lands is hardly a good omen. So I'll take my chances. The Black Tower is my hope. _You_ are my hope.”

Castiel sighs and nods. “I don't like – “

“You don't have to like it.”

Castiel glares at him. “You've made that abundantly clear. You're still a goat-kissing lummox, Dean Winchester.”

Dean dares a smile. “My goat-kissing mouth has been on your lips, Cas. Not the best insult.” There's a new gleam in Castiel's eyes that takes Dean back to better days when the world was simpler, when the Dragon Reborn hadn't broken all chains and thrown the nations into fire and chaos.

“Be quiet.” Castiel caresses Dean's cheek softly.

The kiss is as fierce as Castiel. Dean's whole body is engulfed in flames and for a moment he forgets how to breathe. There is only Castiel, the taste of him on Dean's lips and his hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in tighter still.

Too soon, Castiel lets go. “I never stopped loving you, Dean. But the Black Tower has no place for love. If Mazrim Taim finds out, not only that I know you but that I _love_ you, he'll kill you. Or worse.”

“I can deal with worse.”

“We'll need all the eyes and ears we can get. It's paramount that we find Logain. He's the Dragon Reborn's most trusted Asha'man. The true leader of the Black Tower. If we don't succeed, I'm afraid the world will see Dreadlords walk the lands again. We can't allow that!”

“Dreadlords are – “

The door opens with a start and Saman is there. He just shakes his head before leaving the cottage again.

Castiel sighs and adjusts his black coat. “Our time is up. My rules still apply. Keep your head down, stay silent, and most importantly, do as you're told.” He pauses, as if contemplating if he should speak the next words. In the end, he does. “I just found you again, Dean. I'd hate to lose you. We will save the Black Tower and Logain.” He looks at Dean and there's a softness in his eyes. “Light, we might even save ourselves.”

“I have hope, Cas.”

Castiel smiles sadly as he walks out the door. “Have hope for both of us then, Dean.”


End file.
